Chapter 34 #2
He spared me a glance, smiled a little. “I know.”
I gritted my teeth. “This is not the time to be cute.”
“With these families, it never is,” Mikhail muttered.
I glared at him. “Nobody asked you, human borscht.”
His mouth lifted at one corner. Another shout came from outside. Then the double doors at the front of the hall opened hard enough to bang against the walls. The woman who stepped through looked like trouble.
Marguerite Armstrong.
Chauncey's aunt.
I had only seen pictures of her, but I recognized her.
The determined, spiteful set of her mouth, the coldness in her eyes, the way she walked in like she owned the room…
Yeah, I recognized it all because I saw it in her nephew too late.
She wore black, but she wasn't mourning.
Nah, this was power black, that "I got money" black.
Virginia, her sister and Chauncey's mom, came in behind her, face tight, eyes searching the room like she was looking for someone. Like she was looking for me.
Several men entered behind them. Not many, but enough to make the guests gasp and step back, enough to look like a threat. My body turned cold. Marguerite’s eyes found me almost immediately.
“There you are,” she said, voice carrying easily now that the room was silent. “The lying bitch everybody willing to fight over.”
Targen took one step forward. I tightened my hand in his jacket.
“Don’t.”
He stopped. Barely.
Marguerite smiled like that pleased her. “I wondered if you still had a voice, Theory. Last I heard, you were busy hiding behind big Russians and bigger wedding rings.”
I felt every eye in the room shift toward me. Heat crept up my neck, but I met her gaze. I lifted my shoulders nonchalantly.
“I’m not hiding. You walked in and saw me, didn’t you?”
Marguerite’s smile tightened. “Still smart-mouthed. Chauncey always said you had a mouth that needed discipline.”
My husband went completely still.
Behind us, Juvie said, very softly, “Ma’am, this is not the time to choose violence.”
Marguerite ignored him. Her eyes stayed on me.
“Standing here dressed up, playing a rich man's wife, like you didn’t destroy a family. You lied like my nephew was a monster, then destroyed him because you spread your legs for a real monster.”
Targen moved so fast I barely caught his arm.
“Targen,” I hissed.
He looked down at me. I saw something in his face that made my grip tighten. I didn't know what was going on, and I couldn't stand the thought of his being hurt.
“Baby... Not yet,” I whispered.
Marguerite laughed. “Could this really be one of the great and mighty Sidorovs? Look at you. She got you trained already. Virginia, do you see this?”
Virginia was angry, but she was less sure than Marguerite.
She seemed a little more afraid, like she should have been.
I could feel the murder in my husband's tight body. Virginia Armstrong, Esquire, liked to fight, but she liked her dirty battles in a courtroom. This was not her style, and it was showing. She was scared. I couldn’t focus on that, though, because as I looked around the room, my own fear started getting tangled up with confusion.
Prime stood a few feet from Marguerite’s men, hands in his pockets.
Ajani was near the side exit, relaxed, easy like Sunday morning.
Braeden had positioned himself by the table where my grandparents sat, but he looked bored too.
Even Real stood with one arm around Everly, his eyes on Marguerite, not worried.
He looked annoyed. My heart picked up its rhythm. What was this?
Marguerite lifted her hand. “You all think this family is untouchable because they got money. All these white men with accents, and of course, Black men willing to play guard dog.”
In my peripheral vision, I caught movement. Sergei Sidorov had shifted on his chair. Mr. Sergei’s brows rose slightly. Ms. Joia patted his hand like she was trying to calm him. Marguerite looked toward him and smiled wider. “And look what we have here. The great Sergei Sidorov.”
Mr. Sergei stood and buttoned his suit jacket lazily. “You have the nerve to speak on my son and me. Do I know you?”
Juvie laughed quietly. “Papa disrespectful as hell, ain’t it?”
Marguerite’s face tightened. “You will.”
“No,” Sergei said. “I will not.”
Something about the way he said it made Virginia take a small step back. Marguerite either had no fear or no sense.
“You Sidorovs have taken too much from my family. You took Chauncey's mind. You took Kemp's body. You came here with your money and your guns and thought nobody could answer to you.”
Targen’s head tilted to one side. “Please… go on.”
Her smile returned, looking all mean and satisfied, like she knew something they didn’t.
“I know you been wondering who been helping me. Who moving pieces while y’all busy planning weddings and playing house. The Millers ain’t the only ones with reach. Moi russkiye druz'ya peredayut privet.”
Frowning, I looked at Targen.
“My Russian friends say hello,” he translated, his voice tight.
Marguerite looked pleased by the reaction. “That’s right. Y’all not so calm now.”
But actually… they were. They were still too calm. Targen slid one hand into his pocket. “Who told you your Russian friends were coming?” he asked.
Marguerite cleared her throat softly. It was quick, but I heard it. She wasn’t as sure as she was putting on.
“What?” she snapped.
Targen’s voice stayed flat. “Who told you they would stand with you tonight?”
Marguerite’s mouth tightened. “They’re already here.”
“No. They sent their regards but they just couldn’t make it,” Targen taunted.
Virginia touched her sister’s arm. “Marguerite…”
“Shut up,” Marguerite hissed, like she had it all together.
But the men who had entered with her suddenly looked less like soldiers and more uncertain.
Prime looked at one of them. “We gave you options. You can still make a smart choice.”
The man swallowed.
Marguerite spun on him. “Stand down, and I’ll kill you myself.”
Unconvinced, the man dropped his gun. One by one, the others followed. The sound of metal hitting the polished floor was loud but beautiful. Marguerite stared at them in disbelief. “Cowards,” she hissed.
Prime smiled. “No, not cowards. Employees.”
My jaw dropped.
Oh.
Oh.
So, this wasn’t an attack. This was a trap, and Marguerite Armstrong had walked right into it. Targen glanced back at me. His eyes met mine for one second. That was all the confirmation I needed.
“You knew,” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
“You let her come here?”
“Yeah.”
“To my cousin’s reception?” My voice was incredulous.
His mouth tightened. “My best friend agreed. We controlled the room.”
“You controlled the room,” I repeated slowly.
“Milaya—”
“You controlled the room. Oh. Okay! In that case, it’s all good!”
I let go of him. His eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure me out. I grilled him hard as fuck, so he didn’t have to guess how I was feeling.
Marguerite’s voice interrupted the moment. “No. No, this is some trick. They wouldn't walk away. They want him dead. They want all of you dead.”
Her finger pointed at Sergei. He looked almost amused. “They want to stay un-dead more.”
“They said—”
“They lied,” Targen cut in coldly. “They fed you just enough to make you reckless and stupid. You were always expendable. And now that they realize how serious my family is, they’re showing you just how expendable you are.”
Marguerite’s face twisted as Virginia made a small sound.
Targen continued. “They traded you.”
“What?” Marguerite breathed.
Juvie let out a low whistle, “That’s that hurt right there.”
Braeden nodded. “Finding out you were just currency.”
Marguerite shook her head hard. “No.”
“Yes,” Targen said.
He shifted closer to me again, but I stepped sideways before he could touch me. I was angry with him. I was still a little scared... and a little impressed.
Damn, I was tired of being impressed by this man!
Marguerite looked around. Then her eyes came back to me, and the hate in them was evident.
“You think this is over? You think you safe? You ain’t safe, Theory. Not from what you married. You think that nigga loves you?” she demanded.
I lifted my chin. Marguerite smiled, sensing she had found a weak spot.
“He don’t love you like that. He loves owning what another man wanted. He loves winning. You ain't nothing but a pretty little trophy.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Targen growled, voice low.
Marguerite ignored him. Why not? She knew it was over for her.
“Chauncey broke you first. Disciplined a soft, spoiled bitch the hard way. This nigga just gets to scoop up the spoils.”
Targen’s hand was around her neck before I could stop him. The room blurred around the edges before I forced myself to breathe.
“No,” I said hoarsely. “Let her go.”
Targen turned fully toward me then. “Theory.”
I shook my head once.
“Let her go,” I repeated, then focused on Marguerite once he did. “You don’t get to use what Chauncey did to me like a weapon. You don’t get to call me broken when I’m still standing, when I’ll still be standing after you disappear into dirt.”
“Bitch—” she hissed.
But I smiled and stepped closer. Targen reached out, but he let me.
“You wanted me scared, embarrassed. You wanted to walk into my cousin’s wedding reception and make me feel small in front of my family.”
Marguerite’s nostrils flared.
“You don’t get to do that, though. Not when I survived Chauncey. Not when I’ll survive you.”
Marguerite lifted her hand like she wanted to slap me. She didn’t get close. Targen was between us before I could blink. So was Juvie, which would have been funny if his face wasn’t so dark.
“Don’t touch her. You don’t wanna find out how equal rights for women work tonight,” he said quietly.
Marguerite glared but dropped her hand. Targen looked toward Mikhail. That was all. Mikhail moved. So did several other men I hadn’t even noticed until then. The men who abandoned Marguerite were escorted away first. They went quietly.
Virginia grabbed Marguerite’s arm. “Please. Please, stop.”
Marguerite shoved her off. “Weak bitch.”
Virginia stumbled back, tears springing to her eyes.
Prime stepped beside Virginia. “You should go with him.”
“With who?” she whispered.
Ajani appeared behind her. “With me. Someone who might keep you alive if you tell the truth.”
Virginia looked at Marguerite one last time. Marguerite’s face twisted in betrayal.
“You open your mouth, and I swear—”
“You swear what? Your army quit. Your Russians sold you out. Your family’s leverage is gone. Please finish that sentence, though. I’m curious,” Targen said calmly.
Virginia started crying then, but she went with Ajani.
Marguerite watched her go, and suddenly pure rage spilled from her.
“Fuck you. Fuck all of you especially this bitch!”
Targen moved toward her, and I didn’t stop him this time. He got close enough that she had to tilt her head back.
“You should have stayed away from my wife.” He looked toward a couple of men standing near Sergei. “Take her.”
They moved in. Marguerite fought. She cursed. She spat. She called me everything but a child of God. But she was still dragged backward through the same doors she had stormed through minutes earlier.
For a few seconds nobody moved. Then Granny Nette stood. Every head turned toward her. She looked around the room, then at the DJ.
“Well? The bride and groom paid for music, didn’t they?” she snapped.
Somebody laughed and the DJ, God bless him, put the music back on.
Everly stood in the middle of all of it, Real’s arms around her.
Her eyes met mine, full of worry. I gave her a small smile.
She didn’t look convinced that things were all right.
I couldn’t help her, because I didn’t feel convinced. Targen came back to me.
“Milaya.”
I looked up at him. “You let that happen.”
“Yes.”
“You let me think we were in danger.”
“You were never in danger.”
“Targen!”
“I know.”
I stared at him. He did know.
That was the problem with Targen. Sometimes he understood exactly what he had done wrong and still would do it again if he thought he was protecting me.
Infuriating.
Intoxicating.
I looked away before my face gave away too much.
Juvie was trying to convince Mikhail to dance again. Mikhail looked like he would rather be deported. Hyacinth had both hands on her hips, yelling at somebody about a spilled drink near her shoes. Prime stood with Ajani and Braeden again, the three of them already talking like nothing had happened.
Targen reached for me slowly this time, giving me room to say no, as always. I should have. Instead, I let his hand close around mine. His thumb rubbed over my ring.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No.”
His eyes lowered to mine.
“I will be,” I said.
He nodded. Then he pulled me close enough for his mouth to brush my forehead, not quite kissing me.
I stood in my husband’s arms, listening to the music, watching the doors Marguerite had disappeared through. And I sighed because I knew we were not done.
Not yet.